Insomnia

11:05 PM

Bed, save me a dream tonight.

A windy garden of joy
Beside a meditating sea,
Where the flowers are yellow
And the earth, kind.

Where passionately, the winds blow,
Igniting the heat of the soul.
Tempting to draw out
A lustful fight for
Drowned desires.

12:35 AM

Bed, please sing me a song.

A mermaid's hum
Mingling with the ocean's choir.
A silent song
To calm a despairing shore.
A lingering melody
To conjure the lord of sleep.

Or,-- a beggar's tune
On a bustling street.
A plea to the unkind.
A prayer for providence.
A passing lover's symphony.

2:00 AM

Bed, I just need your warmth tonight.

4:00 AM

Bed, damn you.

An Ode To A Lonely King

Moonlights chasing
A ship going somewhere,
To a place where the sun dies
Everyday.

I frozed in awe.
I sat where
The ocean -- a mirror,
Reflects
The hovering moon above,
Pinned on a royal blue sky
Like a proud king,
Alone on his throne,
Begging a stranger's eye,
To notice his silver shadow
Silently chasing a Cebu ferry,
Across a vast expanse
Of black, dancing waters.

He bears the grief
Of a proud king,
Alone on his throne,
Envying two sweet lovers
Sitting beside a
Speechless soul,
Who writes in verses,
What his tongue
Could not
Utter.

Only When I'm Drunk

I sang like John Elton.
My stage, a dirty plastic table
Littered with bottles
Full of yellow-colored piss
From a red horse devil
Who laughs while we consume
His factory- brewed potion
Changing the appearance
Of that scantily-clad lady
Dancing beneath the red light
To a mystical princess
Of heavenly beauty and charm.
I wanted to ask her number
Forgetting
That in the morning
She would turn
To an ugly hag as ugly

As the devil himself
Who laughs while we consume
His factory-brewed potion
Turning the world
Into a turn-table
Where every step spins
The wheel, and I,
Back to the chair
Where I face the devil

Who laughs while we consume
His factory-brewed potion
That can turn every word into
Laughter and every
Fart into a work of art
While I sip another
Glass of piss and sing
Like Martin Nievera ...
Until the sun comes up

And I,
Into my lonely bed
Again.
.

Roof

One more cigarette,
Before I lay me down.
No voices,
No footsteps.
Just the eerie feeling
Of sleeping beneath
An unfriendly roof,
Painted with sorrow,
Overladen with grief.
A witness,
To a million nights
Of self-induced loneliness.
A witness,
To a river of tears,
Streaming gently down
From an isle of despair
Called the eyes.
A listener,
To untold stories,
A soul in search
Of a warm body,
That cannot be found
In a thousand daydreams,
Lying beside you,
Feeling your skin,
Healing the scars
Of your burned spirit.

A Love Story by A Flamenco Guitar

Dirty fingers,
On a black guitar,
I watched in awe,
As he played a flamenco.

His tune, erupting in pain,
And pausing with bliss,
A lover's heart
Rekindling a kiss.

His four fingers,
Chasing a joyful tune.
Two lovers in love,
Under a lightless moon ...

Then a calm,
A lonely melody.
A lover's heart,
Bleeding in agony.

Then he strummed
A violent tune.
A lover's rage,
A heart in ruin.

Then he stopped.
Two hearts gone cold.
His guitar betrayed,
A secret untold.

Was it ...
A tragic love story,
Written in tears?
Or just me
Reminiscing the years ...

Bed

Dreams, carry me,
To my childhood bed,
Where miseries,
I wept away,
Screaming to my soul,
Until inner voices,
Would give no more.
And my cheek,
A waterfall of tears,
Like blood from a wound,
Imitates the cryI uttered.
And the wind from my fan,
A lover's cold breath,
Tingling every inch of my spine,
Easing the pain of distance,
Draining my painfulMemories.

In my new bed,
Tears won't give any comfort.
The wind of my old fan,
A fleeing glance of time,
When the world
Was innocent,
Was blissful.
And my pillow,
It has forgotten,
How the night
Can be so cold,
So cruel ...
And the night,
A ruthless reminder
Of a wasted life,
In the embrace,
Of a stranger ...

So, soul, sleep now ...
Sleep.
Deep.
Dream.

Free Spirits

Free Spirits

They are dancing tonight.
Like a million fireflies
On a moonless night.
Savoring the freedom
Of an empty space.
Oblivious to prying eyes
And minds too close
For redemption.

They are dancing tonight.
To the beat of the rastas,
And the songs of the wild.
Celebrating life.
Celebrating love.
Unleashing the heat
Of their bodies,
The energy of their soul,
Until the new sun shines ...

I am dancing tonight.
To the sound of reggae and
The hum of the drums.
The spirits of the earth,
Calling for my presence,
I will succumb.
Lending my body to the night
Until the new sun comes ...
Until the new sun shines ...

+--------------------------------------+
Burning Culture Concert. August, 2004
+--------------------------------------+